Mercy
by PaleGreySky
Summary: If Matthew Murdock was truly the Devil, then she was his angel of mercy. -oneshot-


**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me here. All Daredevil characters belong to the Marvel Universe and franchise.**

 **No flames, but reviews are very much appreciated :)**

 **This oneshot can be kind of seen as Matt finding out about "Black Sky" even before Stick shows up, and Stick confirms his intel later in the episode and the two go on their merry way.**

{{{{{-=+=-}}}}}

He hoped, every time that he dialed her, that this time would be the time when she said no, that this time would be the one she didn't pick up the phone. And yet he also wanted her each time, to hear her fuss over him and feel her soft, warm hands on his skin and smell her apple-scented shampoo.

He could always hear her disappointment, almost taste it in the air as she observed the cuts and bruises on his skin. He tried to imagine it, imagine what she looked like, one night as he laid sleepless in his bed. A furrowed brow, maybe, and pursed lips. Stormy brown eyes. But he found that it hurt too much to imagine what he couldn't see and what he could never have.

And yet, even though he couldn't truly see her, he could see her through her actions, through her emotions and her care.

He pondered all of this as he dodged another swing of the switchblade, only to have it cut sharply into his left forearm when he flipped back around. Damn.

His form had been getting weak and sloppy tonight, most likely from the cold Foggy had given him a day ago, and of course, as fate would have it, he forgot to take the meds given to him by the doctor. A cough escaped him at the pain; when he had only blurry orange images to see, touch became a huge factor in his life, and at the moment the pain was all he could focus on.

Instead, he kicked hard backwards, satisfied when he caught the man upside the jaw. The attacker stumbled back, and he took the opportunity to kick the knife out of his hand. He lashed out at the man, slamming him hard into the brick wall and snarling in his face. The man shouted in fright. When his jacket slipped off, he caught sight of a shining silver cross on a chain. He grabbed the cross and yanked him forward.

"You pull the gun out from your holster, you wish you'd never been born," he hissed as he whipped his Escrima-style sticks out, holding them threateningly.

When the man quieted, fear-filled eyes fixated on him, he continued. "Tell me what you know about Nobu."

The man gave a violent start.

"No…you don't understand...I swear, I'm just one of the drivers! I don't know anything."

 _Thump. Thump. Thump thump thump thumpthumpthumpthump_

"You lie," he hissed, ready to strike him.

"Please, please. Don't hurt me." The man whispered hastily.

There was a pause, and when the man said no more, he grabbed the other's arm, twisting the joint sharply until a cry of pain escaped him.

"No…stop, please stop!" Harsh gasps issued from the man, his breath frosting in the cold air. "I know, I know that there's a shipment coming in this month. I don't know where, but there's something coming in." This time, his heartbeat was steadier. He was telling the truth.

He was just about to knock the other man out, when the man sobbed. "They'll kill me. He'll kill me for this. Cut my fingers off, make me bleed in front of my family."

"Then I suggest you run."

His well-aimed fist to the man's head caused him to slump over against the wall. The cut on his arm stung harder, and a soft hiss escaped him as he pressed down on it with his right hand.

He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed her number. A single tone had passed, before he heard her voice, worried and tense, through the speaker.

"Are you hurt?"

He remained silent, leaning awkwardly against the wall as he tried to staunch the small stream of blood.

"What do you need?"

He lifted his arm, surveying the raw, bloody flesh in the cut. "Uh, I got a pretty bad cut on the arm, maybe four inches, half a centimeter deep," he observed. There was the sound of a sigh from the other side of the phone, and he had to smile slightly at the worry in her tone as she spoke again.

"I'm assuming that you're stopping the blood flow. Keep pressure on the cut." He heard the sound of a door slam from over the phone. "I'll be there in five. Two minutes if I'm lucky."

As he slipped back into the shadows on the rooftop, he could hear the sirens as the police neared the alleyway where the man suddenly woke up, gasping for breath.

"Drop your weapon! Now!"

There was the clatter of the gun on wet pavement.

"I swear! I swear I didn't do anything…"

"Cuff him."

Another officer spoke. "Who did this to you?"

"It was him!" The man whirled around, faltering when he noticed that he was already gone. "But-but…"

"Well, looks like we got another hit by the mask." The officer muttered. There was the sound of shuffling, before a dull thunk as someone was shoved rather unceremoniously onto the hood of the police car and cuffed.

He moved across the rooftop. The path back to his apartment was well-memorized from all corners of the city, and soon he found himself leaning against the railing outside of his window, breathing heavily from the pain in his arm.

"Mike."

He turned towards the sound of her voice. She had been standing in the center if his living room, watching him for some time. He quietly unlatched the window and landed on the couch.

Immediately, he felt soft hands lift his arm and set it on the armrest of the couch, closer to the blindingly-bright lights from outside. He could smell the antiseptic, and no noise escaped him as she poured a small amount of the antiseptic on the wound and began cleaning it.

And finally, when she was done, when the memories of tonight were all but washed away in his fatigue-

Claire whispered, softly, "Take care of yourself, Mike." _Because I want it to stop._

He nodded instinctively, and as the door to his apartment closed and her footsteps faded into the distance, he sighed heavily, leaning back against the couch.

But, if Matthew Murdock truly was the devil, then she was his angel of mercy.

{{{{{-=+=-}}}}}

 _Before, just the daylight,_

 _Come, and I stand by,_

 _Waiting to catch the,_

 _Quickest plane._

 _Fly me to nowhere,_

 _It's better than somewhere,_

 _That's where I've been, and,_

 _Nothing has changed._

 _-_ **Onerepublic,** _Mercy_


End file.
